How dangerous could it actually be?
Being a farmer in the same town of Pelican Town was supposed to be a safe new road for him, released from the degrading life of a cubicle worker, forced to be glued to a screen until his soul gave out, the country air and the expanding farmfield was supposed to be good for him. A new start.. Farming for profit is a lot harder than you think.
He jumped at the chance when he saw the mines entrance now bare of the former rumble that covered the entrance way into the area and when a elderly man, with gray hand and old scars, offered him a sword and a mission, well, he took it. Gems, rocks, diamonds even could be lying deep within the mines. When the old man gave him the sword, he wasn't sure he was telling the truth. It sounds like an old legend, a folktale keeping the townspeople out of the mines.
He may or may not have been surprised when the mines were actually full of monsters. It started off with slimes at first, which while gross, when they splayed apart with the slash of the rusty blade, he could handle it. Then it was the bugs, flying creatures that made his skin crawl and his stomach queasy, that started to make things difficult. Even as he dug through the rubble and throughout the cave, going deeper down in the caves, surely where riches lie, he felt something at the corner of his eyes. A fatigue slowly but surely taking over him.
He had collected some good stuff, he thinks. Some gems like amethysts, quartzes, and topazes fill his backpack to the brink, along with other useful but strange items like bug meat of all things. Ew. He just wanted to go a little further, he had time before the late-night curfew of the town would be put into place but as his arms weakened with the weight of his newfound blade and his shoulders ache with each slash and jagged movement as the heavy backpack dug into his shoulders blade, he had to admit defeat all right?
He climbed back up those ladders, clinging onto the wooden anchors, until he saw the top and pulled himself onto the top cave floor. He made it back up there, now all he needed to do was get home but—he was so tired and exhausted. He didn’t really realize how badly his body was unprepared for all of this, how deeply it ached like his muscles were dying and how heavy his breaths became as he was desperate to slow them down. It was as if, finally sitting down on the ground for a second had made all the adrenaline in his body vanish within an instant. Every bout of exhaustion, every panging ache of his hunger, every bruise and slight injury held him down. Gravity felt harsh on his skin.
sh*t—f*ck. He needed to get home—he needed to, really needed to, but his body wouldn’t move and his mind was having a hard time staying awake. Before he could even stop it, as if something had finally shattered, all of his weight fell to the cave floor, rocks digging into his skin as the corners of his eyes grew dark.
“What the hell was that f*cking sound—I swear to god if there’s f*ckin’ ghosts and sh*t—” He could barely hear as someone, some sort of figure, blocked the entrance of the cave he could see from where he laid, helpless, on the floor. “Holy sh*t—are you dead?”
He wanted to talk back, to say something, hell, maybe even scare the dipsh*t but nothing would move.
Even as the stranger drew closer, dressed in some black shirt with a large square backpack peeking up past his shoulders, and ugly color of bleached blonde hair.
That stupid f*cking shade was the last thing he saw before it went dark.
“Do you have any idea how stupid you are?” is the first thing that he hears when his eyes struggle to open. His body feels heavier than usual, exhausted and worn out. He can still feel some of the grime on his skin, the way the hard gravel-texture of the bottom of the cave felt as it dug in when he passed out. “Seriously, weren’t you warned about the mines? How as much as I’m sure there’s great riches or whatever got your idiotic self down there, that’s no reason to go without proper preparation!”
“Do you—” His throat squeezed, choking on the air. “Do you talk to all your patients this way, huh.”
“Specifically the stupid ones. Don’t be stupid and maybe I’ll have better bedside manner.”
He tried to squeeze out an annoyed glare at him but he doesn’t think Shirabu was intimidated at all with the way he shook his head and grabbed his chart off the end of his hospital bed. “You have multiple lacerations across your arms and legs, defense wounds I presume, not to forget to mention dehydration. We gave you an IV of saline while you were out and Goshiki disinfected your wounds and wrapped them. You’re probably sore as all hell, so you’ll at least need to stay away from the mines for a bare minimum of a week. Normally, I’d recommend two but I figure you’re going to be stubborn about this.”
“Wow, doc, been here less than a week and you already know me better than anyone here,” He smirked up at him. The doctor just rolled his eyes, huffing out a frustrated sigh.
“Listen, eat this,” He said, placing his chart back where it went and grabbing a plate of food he didn’t realize was there, across the room at some desk with a computer. He places it in his hands, it’s a plate of onigiri, wrapped in plastic wrap to keep it fresh. “You need to understand that the mines is a scary place. There are monsters down there.”
“Yeah, figured that one out, doc.” He tore the plastic wrap, snatching up one of the onigiris off the plate and taking a huge bite. It had been so long since he ate something that wasn’t weird cave food, like bug meat or cave carrots. It was fresh, with fluffy rice and mouth-melting tuna at the center, and warm, filling his entire body with this comfort he couldn’t explain. “
“If you continue to adventure down here, then I don’t want to make you a regular, got it?” Shirabu glared. “You need to stock up on water and food. Those onigiris are from the Onigiri Miya, it’s run by Osamu Miya, it opens up at noon and stays open late in the evening so there should be no problem in finding time to grab food. You also need to get yourself better gear, like from the Adventurer's Guild, because unless you want to be charged out of the ass for my services, you won’t be ending up in here everytime you go on a wild adventure for whatever reason you’re doing this.”
“Is it that weird?”
“Going into the mines after what, who knows how long all of us avoid that place like it’s the plague?” Shirabu sneers, folding his arms. “You show up here a week ago, go to the mines, get yourself found by Atsumu Miya of all people, nearly end up dead, and for what reason? You’re strange.”
“‘M just trying to get some cash and y’know build the community center. Takes supplies and offerings to the Juninos.”
“The what now? Every word you say is more and more suspicious.” Shirabu eyed him carefully. “This is a small town, people talk.”
“Yeah, not that different from city life if I had to be honest with you,” He took another glorious bite of the onigiri. “I know what I’m doing is right. Farm life ain’t cheap and I gotta start it up somehow. Plus, it was Shinsuke’s grandmother’s last wish to have the community center up-and-running again. Just trying to help an old friend out.”
“You two know each other? Besides being competing farmers?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say competing. We work together.” He admits, “We’re both trying to build the community center. We went to the same college, we were even roommates—he went for agriculture, I went for business.”
“How’d that degree work out for you?”
“Well, I’m here now?” He shrugs.
Shirabu sighs. “This definitely isn’t going to be the last time I see you in one of my beds, is it?”
He handed the clean plate back, with the scrunched up ball of plastic laying on it, with a grin, “Probably not.” .
Shirabu just groaned, refusing to take the plate, and walking out of the room with an annoyed huff.
The mines don’t really get easier, at all, it doesn’t help he’s reluctant to upgrade his tools, given the tight cash in his wallet, and the horrid prices at the guild. Instead, he relies on the weapons he finds, in a pristine chest, golden and polished, as if someone had left it down here for someone to find. It’s working out, well, for him, at least for right now, even if his body aches in disagreement.
His feet ache as he makes a turn, all the streetlights are on, and outside of the wooden building, brimming with noise and life, the streets are cold and quiet in comparison. It almost wakes him up, stabilizes him where he stands just outside the Onigiri Miya, and his body signs with complete and utter exhaustion as the gentle breeze brushes across his scratched up skin.
He pulls himself up the few stairs, grabbing onto the silver handle and opening it to see the inside. It’s a bar alright, with a karaoke machine blasting music and on a Friday night on this, it’s booming with customers, filling practically nearly every seat. Tables are crowded, each with their own groups, some with people who want to drink to themselves to the music, and he feels totally out of place.
Well, he’s hungry, out of energy, and is injured as all hell. He needs that food, he remembers eating at Shirabu’s clinic—warm, inviting, utterly comforting and satisfying in a way he didn’t know food could be. It’s been so long since he had something homemade, back in his city life, he spent his nights eating wrapped bentos from convenience stores and he can’t remember the last time he had something like that, his own parent’s dinner lost to his mind.
“Oh hey!” Someone yells loudly and something stalls in his head as he glances upward, where the man leans against the bar, a grin spread across his face, with eyes glinting. “Aren’t you the weirdo who passed out in the mines?”
Ugly blonde hair. Ugly stupid f*cking face. Ugly disgusting smirk.
Oh, this is Atsumu Miya.
“What—the new farmer?” A man, who looks a lot like him, but different in a way he had a hard time explaining. More mature, put together, and reserved—dressed in dark colors that contour his body well, and an apron tied around his waist tightly with a logo on the breast pocket. “The one that works with Shinsuke?”
“Wait, does he?” Atsumu blinks stupidly.
He walks forward, since he can’t exactly go anywhere, he does need food. He takes himself a seat at one of the few barstools by the corner, he hates sitting by strangers he doesn’t know.
“How stupid are you? You’re barely function as a semi-decent delivery man.”
“Hah—excuse you—”
The one with dark hair that blends into his hat turns towards him, completely avoiding Atsumu’s annoyed calls.
“A menu, take your time,” He pulls out from behind the bar, it’s small but delicately put together.
It’s only one page and the corners are wrapped in dark leather. Of course, as it’s a bar, there’s plenty of different drinks listed, having their own area, but just as Shirabu said, it has some different food options. He peeks up above it, noting the specials written on a chalkboard behind the bar, a daily rotation it seemed.
The guy—Osamu right? That’s what Shirabu called him goes to work on something while talking to Atsumu at the same time. Gathering rice together in his hands, shaping them to the triangular shape he’s used to seeing, putting tuna mayo in the middle before reshaping it back. Just like the kind he had back at the clinic.
He’s fast, quick, and he can feel the warmth of the building. The place practically overflows in delicious scents that make his stomach rumble louder.
The only thing that really keeps him from readily ordering is the prices, yikes. He still doesn’t have a lot to his name. He’s been selling some of his finds in the mines and trying to sell some of the produce he manages to sell at Ukai’s, but a lot of the money goes back into the farm and keeping him, well, alive.
Maybe he would be better off eating that same dirty cave carrots and chewing on some of the raw produce he gets throughout the week. Not the most tasty, but keeps him fed.
He sighs to himself, placing the menu down. Before he knows it, Osamu snatches it up.
“Decide what ya want?”
“Um, just a water?”
Osamu blanks at him. “Aren’t ya hungry? Who comes to a bar for some water?”
At this point, he’s leaning forward, clutching onto the menu with one hand and another placed on the bar counter. He didn’t want to be a sad sap and go ‘well, I can’t afford your prices’ that would just be frankly devastating and well, he already had a weird reputation around town, he didn’t need to make it worse. Shirabu had scolded him for an hour about it.
When he didn’t say anything because frankly what could he say, Osamu turned away and placed the menu back in its usual spot.
He took his notebook out of his bag, he should at least do some sort of work or planning while he was here resting and trying to gander up some strength to head home with. He turned to the section he bookmarked off for the community center, flipping through each section, looking for what he was still missing. Even though he spent a lot of his time in the mines, he still hadn’t reached the bottom, which he needed to. He couldn’t find fire quartz without hitting the moment, he knew that, and frankly was dreading it.
When he heard the clink of glass on the bar counter by him, he didn’t look up until Osamu said, “On the house.”
Suddenly, the delicious whiff of tropical spices and coconut invaded his senses.
In front of him, there was half a pineapple cut in half, the insides scooped out, to be replaced with what looked like an eye-dropping award-winning curry, and the scent of the hot peppers made his nose itch. It looked divine.
“What—f*ck, isn’t this like—how many gold coins—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Osamu leaned forward. “I don’t like it when folks go hungry, so eat up, we’ve got to take care of our own, right?”
He grinned down at him and suddenly, Suna Rinatoru felt he was very f*cked.
“Uh—right—um.”
“Yer that farmer working with Shinsuke, I hear yer trying to rebuild the community center.”
He took the spoon, his hands shaking because oh my god how long had it been since he had a nice meal like this, and dipped it into the curry.
“Um? Yeah?” He squeaked out. Osamu just stared at him with some sort of amusem*nt, his nose scrunching up. Suna felt like he wanted to die then and there.
“Been alive twenty years in this community, never seen it up and runnin’. Shinsuke’s granny used to talk about how it used to be alive y’know? Bustling and stuff. Families would go over there, the town would gather together for cookouts and fun events, outside of the holidays and festivals y’know? It would be nice to see it alive again.”
His soft grin was making it a little hard to focus on eating the delicious curry before him.
Look, sue him, he had a type, he used to like Shinsuke for godsake. The quiet but confident type always got to him some way or another. He didn’t expect to lose his marbles for bar owner the moment he sat down.
“Yeah, it would, be nice to see—you there?” He took a bite before wanting to die. “I mean, you and Atsumu and um Shinsuke and all the—”
Osamu just snorted. “Please, I’d kick Atsumu out if I was there. He’s the type of guy the burn the buildin’ down by stepping inside it.”
“Oh, um, right.”
“But I wouldn’t be against it being rebuilt. Meeting everyone there.” Osamu smiled, almost nostalgic, for something he never really had. “It would be good, y’know, to get to see you there.”
“Right—”
“After all, yer a mystery ‘round here. Folks say yer weird, stay in the mines all day. Hell, ‘Tsumu found you passed out in them when he was delivering something to the Guild up there.” Osamu hummed.
“I’m not—I’m not doing something weird!”
Osamu smirked. “It’s hard to tell when yer busy bein’ a stranger y’know. This is the first time I saw yer face. Though not the first time I cooked for ya.”
“Yeah, um, thanks. Those onigiri were really good.”
“Oh I know, I made ‘em.” Osamu said proudly. “And Shirabu did mention you practically scarfed ‘em down.”
“I was—hungry?”
“Like yer are now?” Osamu chuckles. He reaches over, placing a hand on his shoulder, and it burns where he touches. “Come anytime for good food. Though, I’ll have to start chargin’ ya.”
When he takes his hand away, Suna hardly registers it, because the spot where he touches is inflamed and he’s half convinced he has a fever and needs to knock down Shirabu’s door.
“What’s yer name?”
“Um—uh—Rina—”
“Rina? That’s a strange one for a guy like ya.” Osamu looks him up and down.
“No—no,” He shakes his head and his face is hot from the curry, he’s sure of it. “Rinatoru Suna.”
“Rinatoru, huh?”
He collapses on Shinsuke’s porch, catching his breath as the sun beats down cruelly on his skin and his latest stop by the mines wasn’t any kinder. It’s like a damn thing didn’t change, even as he got closer and closer to the bottom of it, but—it was harder, it took more out of him, and he came out with far more scratches than he did at the start of his exploration. It was frustrating—he felt like he had done so much, threw himself into the slash of his sword each time and let his shoulders ache as he hacked away with the pickaxe, night after night, but he was slower, things took longer, he felt like he hadn’t gotten stronger at all.
He could last longer, he guesses that’s a good thing, mostly thanks to his reluctant payment to the Onigiri Miya. He couldn’t really manage to get much down there without proper sustenance so he made a spot for it in his budget and if he got to gawk at the chef behind the bar counter, well, that was just an added bonus, for him only to know about.
“You’ve done it again—exhausted yourself in the mines,” He nearly jumps out of his skin, despite the fact he was well awake and knew where he was. The freaking guy was unbelievably quiet, could pop out of anywhere, and scare the crap out of you. “Yer really shouldn’t overwork yer body like this, y’know?”
“I know—I know, I’ve gotten better at handling it!”
“Have ya?” Shinsuke squinted. “Sure yer not passin’ out and owing the clinic your entire life fortune but you still get back late from the mines, tired beyond belief, and let’s not forget you always get out past time for Futakuchi’s shop.”
“In complete fairness, f*cker closes up shop and loves to hear me bang on his door.”
“He does have a right to close his shop when it wants to, Suna, his hours are stable so that’s yer fault.”
“No, no—I know he takes joy in it! I just know it! That—that look when he comes out, he grins at seeing out there, I mean—it’s more money for him!” Suna groans, throwing his hands up in the air, out of pure frustration strumming through his body before they fall back down on the wooden front porch of Shinsuke’s home. “It’s fine—ough—farmings more than just watering and planting sh*t.”
Shinsuke’s eyes stutter. “You really shouldn’t cuss like that so freely.”
“If the Gods have a problem with it, they can come now and smite me for it,” He huffed, rolling his eyes.
“Careful what you wish for,” Shinsuke grins, his eyes shimmering with the warm light of the sun beaming onto them. There’s a peaceful moment of quiet, like often at his place, where the gentle breeze dances through the windchimes hung on Shinsuke’s porch and the fresh coldness of it gently soothes the sweat clinging to his skin. He could almost fall asleep like this, warm in the sunlight, curled against the porch floor.
“Kita-san!” cuts through his one moment of silence, outside of the constant yells and groans of the monsters in the mines. “I have a fresh delivery for ya—how have ya be—wait, why are you here?”
He feels the glare before he forces himself to look up at Atsumu Miya, the annoying bitch of the town. He’s in black and white, dressed for Onigiri Miya’s shop, with one of those large square delivery bags on his back and a dark hat to keep the sun out of his eyes.
“I work here.”
“No ya don’t—ya have yer own farm!”
“No, he’s right, Atsumu,” Shinsuke interjects. In a flash, a disgusted glare is wiped away from Atsumu’s ugly face and his wides go wide, f*ck, they even shine at Shinsuke’s words. “We work together—we’re rebuilding the community center together, or well, trying. It’s a bit…difficult.”
“If you—if you need help, Kita-san, ya know ya could’ve counted on me,” Atsumu pouts.
He snorts at that, “As if you could last a day in the mines.”
“I don’t want to hear that from someone I found passed out with no food or water or nothin’!”
“I’m alive, aren’t I?” He rolls his eyes.
“I didn’t realize ya were close with this one, Kita-san, don’t you think he’s…”
What? Suna glares from underneath him. Say it with your chest.
“We went to school together, university,” Shinsuke explains. “We were even roommates, ya know?”
“What—for real?”
Shinsuke nods simply, smiling softly. “Yes, it worked out well, don’t you think?”
“But—” Atsumu’s nose scrunches up as he looks down at him. “He’s not from around here, why’d he come to our town to farm or whatever? Doesn’t click with anything. It’s weird.”
“I had a dead-end office job, okay?” He sneers up, forcing himself up so he can properly glare at him. “It was practically killing me and I was really going to let it—didn’t have much but me and Shinsuke kept in touch. He sent photos of his arm and stuff and it—”
He breathes out, stress culminating in his body.
“It looked nice, like—I don’t know, freeing? Relaxing? Just. It looked better than whatever the hell I was doing and he was talking about how he would need to get a farmhand—you can surely put two and two together, right?”
“Okay, what about the community center?”
“Shinsuke’s granny was nice, sent me food sometimes. She wanted it back up,” Suna frowns. “Just wish we could’ve done it before she passed.”
Shinsuke takes a deep breath, the wound still fresh in his chest. “We can’t loom over ‘what-ifs’. You can’t grow or move if you remain stuck where you are. Becoming stationary—I couldn’t imagine.”
“Sounds borin’.” Atsumu quips, which somehow, makes Shinsuke smile and even let out a chuckle. Ew.
“You can just give the delivery to Suna, he knows where to put it,” Shinsuke says softly. “I need to tend to the cows, it’s time for their milking and the cleaning of their barn.”
“Oh—yeah—” Atsumu looks pathetic and ridiculous as he reaches a hand out but Shinsuke’s back is turned to him, already strolling towards the cow’s barn with buckets in hand. “I don’t like you, by the way.”
“Favor’s returned.”
“You don’t even know me!” Atsumu flares up.
He gives him a look before his face burns up bright like Shinsuke’s cherry tomatoes.
“Okay, look—everyone thinks you’re weird. You’re strange, I don’t get ya. Even with all of that, it makes no sense for you to care—I don’t know what you’re up to and I don’t know why,” Atsumu slips the delivery off his back, lets it fall heavy onto the porch, a resounding soft slam against the wooden planks. “But if I find anything—if ya do anything to hurt anyone or make life worse ‘round here, I swear to you—”
“You’ll bury me alive? Congrats. The worst shovel talk I’ve ever heard, just give me the damn delivery.” He huffs out, freaking annoyed with this guy.
“‘Tsumu stop staring out the window and help clean up before we open up,” Osamu warns, what feels like the third time this morning. He keeps hanging out by the large windows, ducking to the side even or hiding underneath the windowsills. He’s being odd, more than usual. Sometimes, he really doesn’t get him at all.
“Shush—I’m watchin’ somethin’!”
“How about instead of floundering around and eyeing up Shinsuke from a distance, how about you go and talk to him?”
“It’s not—I wouldn’t—” Atsumu's face burns red. “No—the other farmer—guy who keeps stoppin’ in at random hours of the day. Uh, Suna or whatever the hell his name is.”
“Oh, Rinatoru?”
“What, you’re on a first name basis with him?”
Osamu stares at him blanking. “I’m the main chef and bartender of the town, I’m on first names with everyone.”
“Oh, piss off, not true.”
“Why are you so cranky about the guy? What, is he dating Shinsuke or somethin’?”
“No—I mean, they’re close but definitely not dating! No way!” He shakes his head violently. “He’s just—odd! Weird! Freakish!”
“You must be describin’ yerself.”
“I will burn this shop of yers to the ground.” He threatens, it’s a baseless threat. He’s not even sure Atsumu knows how to work a match. “Just look—he’s runnin’ around all over the place, he’s already been to Ukai’s, now he’s at Shirabu’s and now he’s talking to the damn mayor.”
“It’s a small town, everyone talks to everyone.” He rubs a glass clean, until it gleams underneath the light of the shop.
“Not him—he doesn’t know any of us! Tell me why he keeps popping in here all of the time!”
“To get food?” Osamu gapes at him. “Like any other customer?”
“No, no, he’s become your best customer. What did you do—sell yer soul?”
“Or maybe my food is that good. Food goes straight to the heart y’know.”
“Oh don’t bullsh*t—oh f*ck,” Atsumu practically jumps out of his skin. “He’s coming this way, sh*t, sh*t, hide me—”
“Why the hell are you screaming? We open at noon, change the sign!”
“Why’d I gotta do it?”
“You work here, I pay you to do it!”
Atsumu begrudgingly marches over to the door, flipping the sign from Closed to Open. Not even nearly a moment later, Rin pops inside.
Osamu notes he looks better than he normally does, oddly enough. His skin is clean, from scrapes and dirt, along with his hair. Usually all sorts of things get in there, like gravel and debris, it actually looks soft underneath the warm light. He looks—good, which is odd to him but he’ll take it.
“Oh hey, ‘Samu—” Rin starts before being cut off.
“Hey, don’t call him that, ya ain’t close to him—”
“Ignore him,” He brings up one of his spatulas, slapping Atsumu on the back of the head. He’ll have to throw that one away, damnit. “He’s being cranky, for whatever reason.”
“I don’t pay him any mind anyways,” Rin grins, his teeth sharp, but his face is soft, relaxed even. “Um, this is odd but do you—like rocks?”
He blinks. That’s an odd question.
“I’ve…never thought about it?”
Rin seems to feel embarrassed, his face scrunched up and his eyes darting around. His chest expands, as if he’s deciding on something, and he slips his bag off his shoulders, unclasping it and digging inside it for something. He finds out, pulling it out viciously and places it on the bar counter.
“It’s—valuable, if you want to sell it. Or you want to keep it too, that’s fine,” Rin’s shoulders have jumped up high as they could go. He looks nervous, for some reason? “It, it reminded me of you?”
“Did you just equate my brother to a rock.”
“Well, when you say it like that, sure it sounds bad,” He rolls his eyes.
It’s a golden ore, with sharp edges and gleaming in the light. It feels small in his hands but he knows, even if he’s an idiot when it comes to rock and ores and stuff, that it’s a lot bigger than what you’d find in fancy shops with gems and rings and jewelry.
It’s an odd present, he’s never received one like this before.
There’s something nice about it—something more than more tools for the kitchen and socks to get lost in his dryer. Something more personal, past his job and what he needs, it’s like—
Like he’s seeing himself through Rin’s eyes. What he thinks of him. It reminded him of Osamu, but how?
“Thanks,” Osamu smiles down at it, “It’s—different and I like it for that.”
“Are ya serious.” Atsumu looks at him like he’s lost his mind, meanwhile while some warm joy explodes across Rin’s face. His eyes go wide before they soften and shine before a smile slowly works up onto his face.
“Cool. Nice. Well, er, see you.” Rin says, quickly out of the door, before he can get another word out of him. He didn’t even get food this time. Did he just stop by to drop this off? To give this present to Osamu?
Well, isn’t that—
His hand goes up to cover his mouth.
Oh, wow, that’s a dangerous thought. It’s probably nothing. He shouldn’t take it that seriously.
But—
“Hey, Kuroo, you like this stuff right?” He asks his employee when he ducks into the shop, tying an apron around his waist.
“Oh sh*t—you got something good there. Looks like it’s been mined right out of the caves.”
“Probably was. Y’know what it is?”“It’s definitely a topaz, that golden color and those clean but sharp cuts? That’s how ya know.”
“Do you…know if they mean anything?”
“Well—yeah, lots of gems have different meanings and stuff. Think like astrology, but for rocks.” Kuroo says and it sounds utterly ridiculous out of his mouth but he doesn’t cut him off. He’s really curious. “You don’t really see it on a lot of rings or jewelry or stuff, it’s not popular, probably because jeweler's end up making it too orangey in their attempt to make a good buck. Lots of gems end up getting done dirty by them but topazes are actually a really romantic gem! Some people say it helps aids someone’s sweetness.”
He hasn’t cooked anything but he suddenly feels oddly hot. Atsumu must have left a window open, letting the hot air into the building, but he can’t help but let that previous dangerous thought linger, again, with a little more courage this time.
Rin, when you get past all the dirt and gravel, can be quite cute.
“It means what.” Atsumu looks like he’s going to throw up.
Kuroo blinks back at him. “What, mad you can’t give it to Shinsuke?”
He steps back, turning back to his glasses to shine.
Atsumu doesn’t need to know his thoughts on the matter and Kuroo doesn’t need to know who it's from or how he got it. He’s allowed a little privacy, now and then.
He does not f*cking like this guy.
His footsteps practically burn the ground underneath him, rage rising in him. He’s got Kita tricked and now even his stupid ass brother who shucks him out of the shop to do endless deliveries without breaks. Something is up. Something is weird. How many times can he say that before he becomes numb to him, becomes used to his presence, his existence, until it becomes a permanence in his life that he did not want.
He isn’t really planning to search him out, after all, he has a full schedule—he has ingredients to pick up from both Kita’s farm and Ukai’s shop, along with stopping by Hirugami’s ranch even to pick up some things—Osamu mumbling on about freshest eggs and milk in town, whatever that means.
Hirugami’s is always the worst to get a delivery pickup from. The gallons of milk are heavy, often in those old milk cans that are made of metal, christ, and the eggs aren’t any easier. Osamu always orders a huge batch, in bulk. The items are delicate as hell but far heavier than it has any right of being—it’s his first stop for that reason because frankly he hates it. Practically dreads it when he sees his ranch scribbled out on Osamu’s daily pickup-delivery list for him.
He’s just there—not far from the ranch but definitely not paying attention to it. He’s near the lake, if he was careful, he could probably push the bastard in for all the stress he’s given Atsumu, but he’s on the job so he’s forced to be slightly civil, plus Osamu, for whatever freaky reason, has taken a liking to him, even glaring or sneering at him if he tries to get close to mess with Suna when he’s at the shop as a customer.
The weight of the milk cans put him in a foul mood. His stupid face only makes it worst.
Why the hell is he ripping flowers, of all things, out of the ground like that? He’s practically scouring around, ducking to look behind each tree that looms over him, searching for something more.
What a freak.
“Oi!” He huffs, dropping the milk cans down on the ground and marching towards him. “The hell are ya doin’?”
“Oh—it’s you,” Suna rolls his eyes, like he’s not even a threat! “I’m foraging—looking for stuff in the wild that Shinsuke needs. You’re not stupid enough to question his motives, are you?”
He sees red, hot flaming red, and he can’t say sh*t.
“I don’t get ya. At all.”
“So you’ve said, on repeated occasion.”
“It’s not my fault yer—different. I mean, half the sh*t you doesn’t make any sense!”
“Oh please,” Suna glares back at him. “Name one.”
He smirks at that, squaring up his shoulders, and it comes easy to his head. “Why the hell did ya give ‘Samu a rock then, huh? What’s so normal about that?”
He watches as Suna’s eyes go wide, completely stunned like a deer in headlights. His body completely stills, he even thinks he stops breathing.
“Ya go around, running from place to place, for what? Yer always visitin’ the shop too! What’s yer damn motive?”
“I don’t know if you’ve got rocks in your head or something, but there’s nothing abnormal about what I’m doing!” Suna huffs, throwing his hands in the hand. “I buy seeds from Ukai’s, I stock up on medicine from Shirabu’s. There’s a literal help board in front of Ukai’s shop, sometimes I help people with errands or stuff they need—is that a crime? Isn’t it neighborly?”
Atsumu’s nose twitches, he doesn’t like to admit it, but he’s right. Small town helps each other out but still, there’s something gnawing at his skin…
“And my brother?”
“I—” Suna grows hot under the collar. Looks like he’s about to pass out, he really didn’t want to hear it from Shirabu again about dragging another collapsed idiot to his clinic after hours, really.
“I knew it! Yer up to somethin’ and they all looked at me like I was crazy for thinkin’ it!” Atsumu surged forward. “Well, out with it!”
“Oh—shut the hell up with it and your crazy theories!” Suna loses it, practically cracks apart in front of him. All that anger, frustration, and feelings he didn’t even know were possible out of the new farmer came rushing out. He must’ve been holding back this entire time if he can burn red in the face like that. “You’re seriously going to sit here and act like you’re not heart in the eyes, red in the face, highschool love-struck for Shinsuke right now?”
“What—” His heart stops in his chest. “How—what the hell do you—I—”
“You’re not exactly subtle.”
“What does that even—” Rage rushes forward, threatening to take everything over, until a moment of clarity shines through. It clicks together, his words and his callout of Atsumu’s own deep-rooted feelings and suddenly, it’s so obvious. “No—no way!”
“Stop looking at me like I’ve grown a second head.”
“That would make sense than ya—ya—”
“What?” Suna says, it comes out like a curse, but it’s hard to feel threatening when this was the case the entire time. How f*cking hilarious. “Than me being what?”
“Being into my brother! Ough, I think I’m gonna be sick. Ya mean all those times ya stopped by was to flirt and fail at it! That—yer damn rock was a way to court the bastard? No wonder yer there as much as me!”
“I am apart of the Adventure’s Guild, I have plenty of weapons that are available to me, do you want to keep talking like me liking ‘Samu, being into him, is the worst thing that could have happened? What did you think this entire time I was doing?”
“I don’t know—being a spy or some sh*t, for Daichi’s little fancy corporate sh*t up there!”
Suna drops the flowers and berries in his arms on the ground, effectively bruising and ruining them, he’s sure.
“Are you f*cking blind.”
When it happens, all Suna can think is goddamn, finally.
He doesn’t really understand what the Juminos are. Shinsuke goes on about something about spirits and the land and really, he questions if those raw mushrooms he ate as a snack were the type that get you high when hearing it, but considering everything else is right in the town, he decides he is fact not high and chooses to not question the words falling from his friend’s mouth. He gives in, watching as they scatter around, rebuilding and reshaping the building as he handed the last of the supplies they needed. Vines are thrown down, mold is clean from the walls, as the weather’s harsh hit on the building almost fades away with white light sparkling along it. The boiler room—the pantry and the kitchen—all of it, it’s becomes renew, as if reborn.
When they’re done, bouncing and moving around with strange little high-pitched noises he can only assume mean they’re happy and elated with the job, seeing the place finally together and whole, like it used to be.
It looks like it was refurnished, taken underneath someone’s hand for a cheap price, and flipped completely around with new furniture that came out of nowhere, windows and floors polished clean until they’re sparkling, and pantries full of food he gave them. It’s like something out of a dream, something that couldn’t be real, but he was standing in it, staring at it, touching it.
Now it was their turn—him and the town—to keep like this, not let fall to ruin like it did before. Keep Granny’s wish alive, if only she could’ve been here to see it.
“It’s—astounding really.” Shinsuke smiles softly, looking around, just as shocked but grateful as Suna feels. His eyes are soft, warm, in a way he’s only towards his farm animals. “So this was what it was like…when she was a kid, huh?”
There’s an envy there, but he also knows there’s a longing grief still in Shinsuke’s chest, tucked deep into it, brimming to life, but he never lets it show on his face, but Suna knows.
“And now—it’ll be like that for the new kids now right?” He smiles, walking towards him. “We should tell the town—what if—well a party! A celebration welcoming party. That sort of thing to get everyone here.”
“You think they’ll come?” Shinsuke asks, turning towards him.
“A party in a small town for all ages? Yeah, they’ll be dying for it.” He grins, “We should—food and drinks. We should cook up stuff and stock on snacks and drinks from Ukai’s—it’s a plan right?”
“One of the most decent you’ve had in a while,” Shinsuke relents with a smile on his face. “I’ll cook, you go to the shops and make the signs?”
It’s starts like that, rushing into town with a new vigor underneath his step. After the weeks he’s spent in the mines, exploring the forests to forage the strangest things for what the Juminos need, struggling to fish whatever the hell lived in those waters—they had done it, accomplished all of it, even with every doubter looking upon him like he was scum, he did that with Shinsuke.
Something about it consumed him, a fuzzy warmth surging through his skin.
It didn’t take long for word of the party at the newly restored community center to spread and before he knew it, they had barely hung the decorations and laid their spread out before bodies were bustling with skeptical expressions until their eyes glanced over the area, seeing what had finally been brought to life after so long. Watching their expressions shift and change was a source of pride for Suna, the way their eyes went wide before they turned soft and warm.
Honestly, he was sure if he would turn up. The shop stayed open late after all and they were always busy but he guesses with all their customers coming over here, it lured them both here.
“No f*ckin’ way,” was the first thing that fell from Atsumu’s mouth, hung wide open, eyes staring. “Someone pinch me now.”
“Close yer mouth, yer’ll get flies in there,” Shinsuke shook his head. “We’ve got foods and drink if yer hungry. Though my cookin’ ain’t much compared to yers, Osamu.”
“No—it’s—” Words stumbled as he took the air in, looking around and seeing every gathered in. Children running around, parents dancing, folks laughing like they hadn’t in a long time. “It’s great, wow, no wonder yer granny missed all this.”
Shinsuke smiled softly again, closing his eyes. “Yeah, but now we don’t gotta miss it, all thanks to Suna’s help.”
Atsumu brought a hand down on his back, slapping his shoulder. “You actually did it! Holy sh*t man!”
“I said I would!”
“Almost feel bad for doubtin’ ya this entire time.”
“Almost?” Suna glared, “What’s stopping you?”
“Well,” Atsumu grinned. It wasn’t like this normal ones—it was co*cky, for sure, but eyes glinted with information that Suna really should have took to the grave with him. He had become familiar with the sight, as Atsumu just loved teasing him at any given chance about his dumb stupid crush. “It’s my job y’know. As a brother.”
“Would you keep your mouth shut.” He quickly looked around to see if anyone were listening. Shinsuke and Osamu seemed ingrained in their own conversation, walking around from room to room. He must’ve been giving him a tour, thank the gods for that.
“Well you’ve finished it,” Atsumu’s grin only widens. “What are ya gonna do now? Make yer move?”
“That is none of your business!”
“Isn’t it?” He laughs. “C’mon we’re friends now ain’t we?”
“Not on your life!” He slaps Atsumu’s hand away, his face burning hot and he hadn’t taken a drop of alcohol yet. He felt like he needed it now.
Osamu lands onto one of the red couches, there’s plenty empty now that it’s getting far later in the evenings. Most families have gone home by now with the sky growing darker, but Osamu chooses to sit on the one with him on it.
He scooches close, he could feel the radiating heat from here.
“Will ya still be around after this now?” Osamu asks, swirling a drink he had poured himself not too long ago. “Gonna go back to yer stuffy office in the city now?”
“God, no—that place, it was hell,” He shook his head vigorously, feeling a horrible itch under his skin just for recalling the months he spent exhausted and depressed in that place.
“Was it really that bad?” Osamu inquired and Suna was a weak man.
“Offices are—well, maybe some of them are good, but it was the first job I hooked after graduating and it was really hell. Spent years slaving away over a stupid computer, creating endless marketing strategies and customer portfolios, even running customer surveys on my own time out of the office all for nothing, y’know? I was just another cog in the machine. I knew that, I think, after a while.”
“Why didn’t ya quit before?”
“I felt stuck. I mean it really was a dead-end job.” Suna looms over his drink, seeing his own pitiful expression mirror back at him. “I felt like I should be lucky I still had a job, some don’t get that, and outside of hating it, I really didn’t have another option. At least I didn’t see a way out.”
“Are ya sayin’ you found one then?”
“Yeah—Shinsuke sent me that letter and talked to me about needing a farmhand and the pictures—” Warmth settled along his skin. “It looked like freedom. Like love and joy wrapped up over here and I needed that. I felt like something change you know? Like I finally woke up again.”
Osamu smiled at that, the creases of his eyes folding. Wrinkles really shouldn’t be that cute but somehow, it is, Suna is a pathetic man, he knows.
“Good then,” He reached over, laying his arm on Suna’s shoulder. He was much closer, his face was much closer now. That was dangerous. “I’d hate to lose my favorite customer y’know? Can let ya turn yerself into a stranger now, ya hear?”
His accent—strong with the country dialect down here—really shouldn’t be as attractive and captivating as it is, but foolish grin on his face and the warmth in his eyes—it’s all too much like this. Everything stops for a moment, his heart goes still and he forgets how to use his lungs.
If he moved, just a little, he could kiss him like this, and the realization has him running.
The world clicks back into color, away from the hot white still moment that took him over, and he jumps from his seat. “Yup—got it, ain’t goin’ anywhere. Um, I need a refill, be back soon.”
He needs to a get a grip, Osamu doesn’t look at him like that. He doesn’t want him like that. He’s just another customer. Just another townsperson. Another farmer down on his luck.
He can’t be that stupid.
“Kita-san,” He whines, grumbling in frustration.
Atsumu looks like an idiot, leaning forward on the table where Shinsuke is sat. He has a cup of tea, of all things, at a bar during the evening, enjoying the soft music and his eyes are locked to the book in his hands. Something about agriculture and soil, Shinsuke had offered it to him for a read and he had hurriedly shut that down. Informational books were beyond boring and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his focus when he flipped through those pages.
He’s pretty glad he declined because it’s hilarious watching Atsumu trying to get Shinsuke to look at him in an idiotic attempt to flirt. Shinsuke hardly looks away from the text on the pages and doesn’t seem to be offering much besides humming in agreement. He’s never been a talker in the first place and man, it’s thrilling to watch the blonde suffer in his attempts.
It feels him with a sense of glee, perhaps, karma is real.
“Look at him, he’s so pathetic like that,” Suna nudges Osamu from across the bar. He has a drink of his own, of golden color and has a rich flavor. He’s not sure what it is, something Osamu made for him and said he would like. He was right, it was delicious, a little too delicious because it was his second drink. Man, why did everything Osamu make have to be so damn good? He could get hooked like this. “He should just hurry up and admit it—save himself the trouble. Either Shinsuke will say yes or no, he can’t keep this up.”
He doesn’t mean to pay attention to everything Osamu does, really, but he has a hard time looking anywhere else. His hand stills on the glass he’s shining to it’s former glory. His eyes are turned down towards the bar, he has been off since he got here, but maybe he’s just reading far too into it.
“Well,” Osamu says, his voice soft but oddly stern. “You two are alike in that way.”
He can’t think.
Those words—don’t mean anything right?
His throat squeezes with an ache as his heart is fearful for what rejection could come forth. How the home he’s finally settled into, found in this town that was so unsure of him, and he could lose it all because of these feelings that he harbors.
His fingers squeeze around his glass, it’s cool compared to his heated skin. God, he can’t find out. He can’t have a clue—otherwise—
“What—I don’t,” His voice cracks, goddamnit. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Osamu places the glass down behind the bar counter, throwing the towel over his shoulder, and then he leans in, close, holding himself up by his arms. It’s just like at the party, he’s so close and Suna feels like he wants to implode.
“Oh c’mon,” Osamu’s eyes glint underneath the light. He co*cks his head to the side, amused. “You do. You know you do.”
His drink flies out of his hand, spilling the golden color along the dark wood of the bar counter. It spills on his shirt and if he wasn’t beyond embarrassed, he was now.
Osamu just grins wider, grabbing the towel and wiping down the mess on the counter.
“How—” His face burns. He feels like he’s having a stroke. “How long?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Osamu chuckles and he feels he must die now because there’s no way he can hear such a nice sound if not before his death. Suna would actually prefer that, to drop dead down and forget this ever happen, to run away from the consequences that his own heart decided must be his. “Don’t ya think there’s a better question you should be askin’ me?”
His mind is racing, words don’t coat his tongue, his head is blank. His fingers are twitching, his mouth opening and closing with the attempt to say something, anything, to figure how the hell it’s ended up like this until Osamu laughs again.
“Ya really are stupid for me, aren’t ya?” His eyes crinkle and he looks so damn happy and Suna can’t understand why. “And here I thought you weren’t interested when you avoided my kiss.”
“K—kiss?” He sputters out.
“Yeah, ran straight away from me,” Osamu pouted then and why was that cute? “Hurt quite a bit y’know.”
“I’m—uh—I—”
“Don’t worry about apologizin’,” Osamu says. “I already know you were too stupid and way to up in yer own head to catch it. Ya really are somethin’, y’know?”
“Something…something you want?” He barely manages to get out. He tries to remember how to breathe, how to blink, how to do anything but sputter and blush into oblivion.
“Yer finally catching on, good job,”
God, he wants to perish, oh f*ck, this is way more embarrassing than he thought possible.
“Now, can ya figure out which question ya gotta ask me?” Osamu continues, “Or do I gotta spell it out for ya?”
His heart feels like it’s going to burst.
“I—um,” He looks down, his chest heaving up and down for air. “Go…you should go out with me.”
“I should, huh?” He teases and Suna really cannot take it. He’s not sure he could turn any brighter and he’s half-scared he might get heatstroke.
“If—you want.” He manages. “I want you to. I want—this.”
“It’s very funny to watch you struggle to talk right now, gotta say,” Osamu reaches over and moves a strand away. Suna is surprised he didn’t pass out. “Sure, why not? If I get to see ya like this more, I’m sure I’ll be you entertaining, Rin.”
