Part Six

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Nishinoya's POV

Well, almost perfect.

"Asahi!" I say suddenly, turning to him and pulling my hand out of his pocket. The candy in my mouth nearly falls out.

He looks at me, red faced and surprised. "What - what is it?" he asks.

Around us, the crowd, although small, begins to disperse and chatter. Sugawara appears, dragging Tanaka by the shirt collar. Momentarily distracted, I grin at the scene, before whipping my gaze back to Asahi.

"The presents!"

His expression relaxes, and his brown eyes light up along with his small smile.

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"Okay," Sugawara begins. "Make sure you grabbed the right presents!"

We all double-check the labels on the gifts, and Tanaka sheepishly hands one of his to Daichi, who sighs with a smile. Tanaka and I sit on the concrete holding up the metal fence surrounding the Christmas tree, right behind the third years, who sit on the bench. Sugawara sits crisscross with a wide grin, holding a bag for the wrapping paper (he made sure to thoroughly lecture us all on not leaving behind any trash until Tanaka was practically asleep).

"Daichi, open yours first!"

Beside him, Daichi hums.

Several 'ooh's and 'ah's later, he holds a gift from each of us: a black scarf with thin orange stripes from Asahi, a mug with the words "#1 Dad" on it from Tanaka, a (reluctantly) signed (blurry) photo of (our) coach Ukai from me, and a handful of small photos of our team hand-bound together from Sugawara.

Afterwards, Sugawara unwrapped his own: an orange scarf with thin black stripes from Asahi, a mug with the words "#1 Mom" on it from Tanaka, a (reluctantly) signed (pink-tinted) photo of Daichi from me, and a copy of the poster Yachi made promoting the volleyball team from Daichi.

With the parents' gifts over with, the last third year was, of course, Asahi. Together, Daichi and Sugawara had picked him out a brand-new pair of black volleyball shoes with bright orange laces. Tanaka had given him a mug with the words "#1 Dad" on it, but the word "Dad" was crossed out and replaced by "third wheel" in messy Sharpie.

I was too embarrassed to watch him open it, but I had given him two of his favorite band's newest CDs. Once everybody's attention was on Tanaka, he quietly reached out and squeezed my hand. I grinned at his red cheeks. Before I pulled away, I tapped a finger on his wrist to tell him we'd talk more later.

Tanaka, of course, was the loudest as he opened his gifts: a black beanie from Sugawara ("It's too cold out for a bare shaved head!"), a pair of earbuds from Daichi, a poster of his favorite band from Asahi, and a (beautifully) signed (beautiful) photo of (beautiful) Kiyoko Shimizu from me. He wept, holding the photo to his chest tenderly.

I am, of course, the last to open presents. From the parents, a pair of cushioned sports pads designed for the forearms ("You always have new bruises when we see you!"). From Tanaka, a (beautifully) signed (beautiful) photo of (beautiful) Kiyoko Shimizu. I weep, holding the photo to my chest tenderly.

However, I saved for last the gift I was most looking forward to: the one from Asahi. I carefully unwrap the white and red striped paper, and hand it to Sugawara, before holding up the very soft thing inside. I wasn't expecting much, since we'd already given each other gifts on Christmas Eve the day before yesterday, so my surprised gasp is genuine.

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