Chapter Text
Tetsurou is eight years old when his parents split. His dad decides to move in with his grandparents, both because he doesn’t want to live in the same place where his marriage fell apart but also because he thinks it will be good for Tetsurou to be with family in this changing time.
True to his dad’s concern, Tetsurou’s life changes a lot that year, more than he can ever comprehend or predict.
Tetsurou is eight years old when he meets Kenma.
~
He grips his dad’s jeans tightly inside his fist to keep his body from shaking. He hates meeting new people, especially kids his age. He never knows what to say, how to make friends, and how soon it is until he can ask them if they play volleyball. He had been fine at home with the kids on his team, but this is different. He wasn’t sure if he could even step foot on a volleyball court again on his own.
His dad insists that this move will be good for them, but Tetsurou isn’t sure about that yet. It’s louder here at night, and he finds it hard to fall asleep. His grandparents are nice, but they pinch his cheeks so much that he’s afraid his face will sag and slouch off one day. Now, his dad is trying to get him to “branch out”, arranging a playdate with another boy who lives next door who’s close to his age to hopefully get him more acquainted.
Tetsurou’s tried to get out of it, but if he fakes any more stomachaches, he’ll have to go to the doctor for real, and he hates that even more.
“We’re the Kuroo’s,” he vaguely hears his dad says. He peeks out from behind his legs and the fringe of his bedhead to look at the two people in front of him.
Kozume-san is a kind looking woman with short black hair in a bob. She smiles warmly at his dad and then down at him. Her gold eyes remind Tetsurou of warm honey. Behind her is Tetsurou’s supposed new friend. He looks just as nervous as Tetsurou feels, his long back hair falling flat around his face. His eyes, however, are piercing gold, so intense Tetsurou has to look down at the ground in front of him to avoid his gaze.
Tetsurou feels his stomach churning, his hands becoming clammier with every second standing in the genkan.
His dad gives him a nudge and a slight raise of his brows. Introduce yourself.
Tetsurou swallows once, and then twice, wishing the ground would swallow him instead so he doesn’t have to do this, but that wish hasn’t come true yet. Not even once.
“My name is Kuroo,” he manages to say. His voice shakes with every syllable, but he forces through, doesn’t want to have to repeat himself. “I just moved next door. Um, this is my d-dad.”
He breathes a sigh of relief when he’s done. Kozume-san is nodding and smiling, so he must have been alright. He’s sure he’s passed the bare minimum required to pass this interaction.
Still, a moment passes with the other boy not saying anything. He just stares at Tetsurou, blinking but not smiling. There’s barely a sign that he’s heard him at all.
When it seems like the silence has stretched on for an eternity too long, Kozume-san chimes in, her voice soft and clear, a hand on the boy’s head, “This is Kenma. He can’t speak.”
~
Kenma doesn’t remember a time when he had his voice, but his mother told him that he had cried coming out of the womb. He babbled like any other kid and cooed and laughed and wailed when he didn’t get his way. But he had been sick one day, really sick, and the next thing his parents knew, he never made another sound.
It must have been scary for his parents, not knowing how they would know if he needed them, not wanting to let him out of their sight for that very reason. They had to teach him both spoken and sign language, so he knew how to communicate back.
He doesn’t mind it most days. He doesn’t want to talk a lot anyways, so it’s not like he’s dying to speak. But it’s annoying when he’s with other kids his age.
Whenever he meets someone new, they always ask him so many questions. Before he can be finished typing it out or writing it down, they get bored and walk away. Worse, they would make up a random story and begin spreading it around despite Kenma trying to shove the truth in their faces. Most of the time, it’s too much of a bother to deal with people that Kenma doesn’t try to make friends ever. Not that he even has that much in common with them anyways even if they had been patient enough to talk to him.
Still, his parents never give up trying to push Kenma out of his comfort zone, even when he tells them repeatedly that he’s fine being on his own.
So, here’s how he ends up with this Kuroo kid in his room, the only other person who has ever looked more terrified than Kenma when being asked to introduce himself.
He has weird hair, black and sticking up at all odd angles. He wears a black hoodie and a pair of white shorts. He doesn’t say much either, and Kenma wonders if it’s because he’s still processing the fact that Kenma can’t talk. Maybe not. He had barely muttered his name earlier.
What are they supposed to do now? Just because they’re around the same age, doesn’t mean they’re going to get along. Hasn’t Kenma proven that many times by never getting along with his classmates? Stupid adults.
But it’s rude to ask someone to leave your room as soon as they get there. It’s not his choice but still. Kenma has manners.
Kuroo’s staring silently around his room, taking in the bare walls and his bookshelf overflowing with video games more than books. When Kenma catches him watching, he looks quickly down at the ground, his hands wringing together nervously.
Kenma needs to put them both out of their misery. Fast. There’s only one way he knows how.
He moves towards his desk and gets out a blank notebook. On it, he writes, “Wanna play Virtual Fighter?”
He puts it up in the air towards Kuroo, who takes a second to read until he finally nods. He settles on the floor in front of Kenma’s bed.
Kenma likes video games because there’s always a clear goal, a mission or a task he’s meant to accomplish. It’s straightforward, unlike people. And it’s interesting, unlike people. He doesn’t need to talk in order to play, either, so it works out well for him in the end.
Kuroo isn’t bad. He isn’t as good as Kenma, but he isn’t bad. He’s good at losing too, never making it a big deal like some of the other kids Kenma has played with. They get into a rhythm of playing in silence, both pairs of eyes locked onto the screen.
His mother knocks on his door around dinner time. She pokes her head in with a smile.
“Kuroo-kun, would you stay for dinner?” She signs and says this at the same time, a habit after the years of teaching Kenma. “It’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
“Yes, thank you for having me,” Kuroo says, nodding to her. At least he’s polite. Kenma can tell that his mother likes this very much.
To Kenma only, she signs, “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” Kenma signs back, shrugging. Because it is.
She gives him a stern look, without even signing it or saying it out loud, he knows it means, Be nice.
When am I not nice? Kenma wants to sign back, but he holds back. Even though Kuroo won’t understand, he doesn’t want to talk back in front of him. He only rolls his eyes instead when she finally closes the door.
“Um,” Kuroo says, looking at him from his spot on the floor. Kenma briefly wonders if this is the moment he finally asks him why he can’t talk. Instead, he asks, “What were you guys doing with your hands?”
Kenma gets out the notebook again and quickly scribbles, “Sign language.”
Kuroo’s yellow eyes round in wonder, his mouth letting out an awed sigh. “Oh. So, you can talk to her that way without writing it down?”
Kenma nods. He writes, “It’s faster.”
He pauses, waiting for a response from Kuroo. He thinks Kuroo will ask more questions, but he just lapses back into silence. After a few minutes, when it’s clear that he doesn’t have anything else to say, Kenma waves a hand in front of his face and points back to the TV. The button that flashes, “New game?” shines brightly on the screen.
Kuroo nods, and they continue.
~
Kuroo comes over often after that. His family often has to work long hours, and since he doesn’t know anyone else in the neighborhood, he ends up at Kenma’s place quite frequently.
For Kenma’s part, he doesn’t mind Kuroo’s company. He’s still just as quiet as the first time, barely saying more than his usual, “Hello”, and “Yes” when Kenma asks if he wants to play video games. At least he doesn’t call Kenma names or ask anything else about why he can’t talk. And Kuroo doesn’t even seem to mind that they don’t talk much, but Kenma doesn’t know if this qualifies as them being “friends” as his parents suggested.
Well, he doesn’t know what constitutes as friends. They’ve started to walk together to school, too, but they never talk there or anything like that.
Today, however, when Kenma waves hello to him, Kuroo doesn’t say anything back. He stands at his bedroom doorway awkwardly, as though he hasn’t been here before.
Kuroo makes an audible gulp before he looks up. His hands shake but they are deliberate and clear as they sign, “Hello. My name is Kuroo Tetsurou.” He spells every syllable, slowly but accurately.
Kenma feels his chest tightening as he stares and stares at his moving hands. He feels the air knocked out of his lungs. No one had ever…it had only been his parents. And since they have decided that he would go to a normal school, he had never seen anyone else use sign.
“Did I do it right?” Kuroo says, chuckling as his cheeks are reddening, going up and up into his ears. “I’ve been trying to learn it, but I still can only sign that much. It took me a while to learn the alphabet.”
Kenma blinks at him, shocked. He can only nod in response, then he remembers and also signs, “Yes.”
Kuroo smiles, the first real smile he has ever given him, toothy and bright. “Okay, good. I want to learn more! Sometimes, it’s hard to look at pictures though so it’s taking me a long time.”
Kenma breaks out of his shock now. He goes over to the notebook he’s used over the past few months of them seeing each other. It’s strange that his hands are shaking now as he writes, “I can teach you.”
“Really? That would be great!” Kuroo beams back at him. “How do I sign your name? Is this right? K-e-n-m-a?”
It feels odd to see his name finger-spelled with Kuroo’s careful hands. Kenma feels a warmth spreading in his chest. He uses his hands to show Kuroo the shortcut his family uses for his name.
“Oh. That’s much easier.” Kuroo chuckles. He looks at his hands in amazement and then repeats that motion. He’s a fast learner.
Kenma points to Kuroo and then makes another sign, “Kuro.” On the paper, he says, “It means black. For you.”
Kuroo lets out a gasp. “A name for me? Wow, thanks, Kenma.” He tries to sign it again in combination with the phrase he already knew. “Hello. My name is Kuro.”
Kenma gives him a small, approving smile, which makes Kuroo throw his fists in the air in celebration.
This is the part where they’ll play his favorite video games like they normally do, but Kenma feels bad. He also feels like he should do something for Kuroo since he’s given Kenma something he never expected.
He passes the notebook to him. “We always play this, so was there anything else you want to play?”
Kuroo’s eyes glance over the words for a few seconds, as though checking to see if he’s read them right. When he looks up, Kenma thinks Kuroo’s going to grab something on his shelf, but Kuroo runs out of the room instead. Distantly he hears the front door closing after his fast retreating footsteps.
Did he go home? So, there was something he wanted to play after all.
Kenma sits on the bed to wait for him.
Kuroo comes back a few minutes later with a volleyball in his hand. Looking at his shaking hands and excited, bright eyes, Kenma doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he meant video games.
Kuroo isn’t the only one who learns something new that day.