Chapter Text
For as long as he remembered, Sakusa Kiyoomi hated surprises.
He liked being informed and told what would happen next - or rather, he preferred if he knew what would be his next move. Whether he should leave space in his stomach after dinner in case there was desert (there was always desert), what sort of questions would be coming out in exams (so he figured he should just study everything), what type of people he'd be competing against.
It didn't necessarily mean he was competitive, just very cautious especially when it came to trying new things. Or so he said.
"So I heard from your aunt, you've been spending more time with Motoya-kun?" his mother had asked, on a random Friday evening over dinner, a rare occasion where his parents were back from a business trip and his older siblings didn't have additional classes or extra curricular activities.
10 year-old Kiyoomi nodded and waited to swallow his food before answering. "He wanted to play volleyball, I didn't have anything else to do so I tagged along."
His father had a bemused look on his face, "Volleyball? That's new," he remarked. "Well it's nice to know you're warming up to your cousin. He's in your class too, no?"
With that tone, even at 10, Kiyoomi knew his parents wanted to know more about this volleyball thing.
"Our team won the practice match against some other school last week,"
"Oh that's wonderful, honey! You must be really good!" his mother chimed in, she sounded genuinely thrilled. "Or was the other team unprepared?" She emphasized the last word, shooting a knowing look at her husband, aware about how her son felt about being 'unprepared', expecting their son's comment about how the other team should have tried harder, his bluntness a tad bit too much for a kid his age.
Kiyoomi paused and considered it for a second. "Motoya said our opponents couldn't dig the ball because I had freaky wrists."
"Eh?" His mother stared, to which he demonstrated by bending his wrists, pushing them until the back of his hands were perfectly flat on the dinner table.
That was the first time he had gotten his older siblings' full attention. "Whaaaaa-, I didn't know you could do that!" His brother, Haruki exclaimed, mouth hanging open.
His sister, Nayumi, was less fascinated by her brother's little quirk, "That's so freaky, please stop that..." she said as she grimaced.
Their father merely laughed, "Wow I guess one of you did inherit your grandfather's double-jointedness!" he said. "Not that it gave him much of an advantage in running a business. But I think that will be your special edge on the court, son!"
"Special edge?" Kiyoomi repeated, wide-eyed and confused.
"Yeah, your opponents won't see what's coming, that gives you a special edge,"
"Like...a surprise?"
"Bingo! Exactly that!"
Dinner had ended shortly after that and the Sakusa household slowly retired to their respective bedrooms. The maids could be heard downstairs doing the final stages of cleaning up, the soft sound of the sink turning off in the kitchen, the shuffling of slippers into their respective places and the beeping of the air conditioner being switched off in the living room, the record player Kiyoomi's father had let play abruptly ending, the bluesy tune coming to a scratching halt.
All while Kiyoomi got ready for bed. It was a routine of his upon entering his room: Taking the volleyball in the corner and bumping it for a bit before putting it back in its place, fluffing his pillows, then changing into his PJs and then brushing and flossing his teeth.
But this time when he exited his bathroom, his mother was in the room, refluffing his pillows and unfurling the weighted blanket for him.
"Ready for bed, Kiyoomi?" she asked. "Let me tuck you in tonight."
Wordlessly, Kiyoomi let his mother do her thing, it wasn't common for her to have time to do this since she was usually in a different country every week or so. He was about to pull up the covers and go to sleep but his mother had not turned off the lamp next his bed, as if expecting for him to say something.
Instead, she spoke first. "I realized you were a bit quiet during dinner after your dad said you were special. Did it bother you?"
Kiyoomi didn't nod or shake his head, he was unsure himself. "I guess so, maybe...I don't know."
"What's so bad about being special?"
"Being special..." he bent his wrists absently. "Doesn't that seem like cheating? That others can't do what I do, that doesn't seem fair."
"So you're worried about the game not being fair?"
This time he did shake his head, "I don't want to win just because people say I'm special, or it's only because I can do stuff they can't."
It took some time, but his mother seemed to fully understand it. "Ah, I see it now. Well, honey, if it makes you feel better, just because there's something maybe special about you doesn't mean other people don't have something special about them. You may have crazy bendy wrists, and someone might be able to...I don't know, they could be lightning fast, faster even than you." She pinched his nose and he grumbled in protest.
"Besides, knowing there's a surprise and knowing what that surprise exactly is, are two different things," she continued. "The difference is how prepared you are for the unknown, that you have a plan, and backup plan-"
"-and a backup plan for the backup plan." Kiyoomi finished her sentence, which made her laugh.
"Bingo." She winked and ruffled her son's dark wavy curls. "And you won't understand it, probably until you're a bit older," she said, more so to herself. "But when people hear your name, the best part is not when they say you're special or that you're gifted with more talent,"
Unbeknownst to her, Kiyoomi was absorbing her every word.
"What makes a name - is by how much they see you go all in."