Everything has changed

Chapter 38: Epilogue

The afternoon sun cast golden shafts of light across Kuroo's office, illuminating the familiar clutter of papers, books, and a few volleyball memorabilia that had withstood the test of time. Kuroo leaned back in his chair, a fond smile playing on his lips as his eyes drifted to the three framed photos that adorned the corner of his desk. Each frame told its own story, each image a window into the chapters that had defined his life.

The first frame held a group picture from that memorable training camp so many years ago. Kuroo could almost feel the echoes of laughter that had once filled the air, the way camaraderie had woven itself seamlessly into the fabric of those days. They were a patchwork of personalities-each school distinct, each rivalry fierce, yet somehow they had melded into something more during that camp. The photograph preserved those fleeting moments perfectly: Yaku with a grin that crinkled his eyes as Nishinoya doubled over in laughter beside him, Kenma's eyes flickering with a rare light as he glanced up, almost hidden behind his hair, and Bokuto mid-celebration, arm flung high in what could only be described as boundless exuberance.

But it was Yachi who drew his attention the most. Positioned between Hinata and Eri, her face was alight with a joy that had taken root only after days of tentative steps into the new world she'd found herself in. Hinata's arm was slung over her shoulder, his grin wide and uncontainable, while Eri's calm smile offered a counterbalance to his energy. Kuroo stood just behind them, a subtle half-smile on his face, eyes crinkled in an expression that seemed so casual back then. He could still hear his voice as he had nudged her into place, teasing but kind. Now, it resonated with a deeper meaning, a sign of how naturally she had fit into their chaotic world-and how he had unknowingly begun to watch over her.

What had been an ordinary snapshot back then now carried with it a nostalgia that pressed gently against his heart. It reminded him of the small, steady moments that had formed the bridge between who they were then and who they had become now.

The second frame held an image that made his heart skip a beat every time he looked at it-a candid shot from their wedding day that encapsulated everything that day had meant. Hitoka and Tetsurou Kuroo. It had been a perfect blend of laughter, nerves, and boundless joy. Yachi stood next to him in the photograph, resplendent in her gown that seemed to glow in the warm light of the late afternoon sun. Her eyes sparkled with a happiness that reflected his own, wide and bright as they met his gaze, and a soft flush colored her cheeks. It wasn't just the dress, the flowers, or the way the light framed her delicate features; it was the way she looked at him, with all the love and trust they had carefully built over the years.

Their fingers were intertwined, a detail that might have seemed insignificant to others but meant everything to him. That small, familiar touch had always been an anchor through their days-through stressful work nights, quiet walks home, and moments when life had felt overwhelming. On that day, it had felt like the final piece of a puzzle fitting into place, the tangible reminder that they had chosen each other, time and again. The photograph had caught them mid-laugh, the moment frozen as Yachi tilted her head toward him, her smile radiant, as though he had just whispered something only the two of them would ever know. He couldn't even remember the exact words, just the way her laughter had resonated in his chest and how it had felt to know she was his, in every way that mattered.

The background was a blur of familiar faces, their friends and family who had gathered to witness this chapter of their journey. Bokuto's voice shouting some cheerful encouragement, Kenma's small smile that spoke volumes, Hinata and Kageyama's loud banter from somewhere nearby, Yaku and Nishinoya deep in conversation-it was all there in the edges of the memory, but they had faded into the periphery when he looked at this picture. This moment, this slice of time, was theirs. It spoke of every late-night conversation where dreams and fears were laid bare, of every silent understanding, and the quiet, steadfast love that had grown between them, unyielding and sure.

It was more than just a photograph; it was a testament to everything they had built together, a reminder that they had taken each step not just as individuals but as partners. And as he gazed at it now, years later, it was impossible not to feel the same rush of warmth, the same quiet awe that had filled him then.

Kuroo shifted in his chair, his gaze falling on the third and most recent addition to the collection, a picture that encapsulated their present and hinted at their future. It was taken on a sun-drenched afternoon, the kind that made everything seem timeless and full of promise. The grass in the picture was a lush, vibrant green, dotted here and there with tiny daisies that swayed in the breeze. Above them, the sky stretched endlessly, a brilliant expanse of blue as deep as the ocean, punctuated by clouds that looked soft enough to touch-an idyllic backdrop to a perfect day.

In the photo, he and Yachi sat close together on a picnic blanket, the colors of which had faded slightly in the sun. Yachi's head rested lightly on his shoulder, her eyes half-closed in a moment of serene contentment. There was something in the curve of her smile that made his chest feel tight, a quiet joy that reflected everything they had built over the years. She wore a loose, floral sundress that danced in the breeze, and he could almost feel the way her hair, slightly tousled by the wind, had brushed against his neck that day.

Between them sat their son, a little bundle of energy with dark hair that stuck up in playful tufts and bright, curious eyes that seemed to hold the wonder of the world. He was a perfect blend of the two of them-Kuroo's sharp eyes and Yachi's gentle features coming together in a face that never failed to make him smile. In the photograph, the boy held a toy plane aloft, tiny hands gripping it as if it were a precious treasure. He could almost hear the echo of his son's giggles, clear and bright as the boy made the plane "fly" through the air, the sound mingling with the rustling of the leaves and Yachi's soft laugh beside him.

Kuroo could still feel the weight of that moment-the way the sun had warmed their skin, the gentle sway of the world around them, and the quiet realization that they were living in one of life's simple, profound gifts. He remembered leaning down to whisper something in Yachi's ear, a silly little comment that made her laugh and look up at him with a sparkle in her eyes. Their son had looked between them, wide-eyed and delighted, before launching into an excited babble about how high his plane was flying. It was a memory so vivid it made the corners of his mouth lift just thinking about it.

This photo was different from the others. It wasn't just a picture of a moment in time; it was a testament to everything that had come before it. The years of growth, the uncertainties and triumphs, the quiet nights spent planning their future, and the louder days when laughter filled their home. It was proof of how far they'd come, from high school acquaintances who had shared fleeting smiles, to partners who had learned to navigate life together, to parents who watched in awe as their little boy brought a new kind of light into their lives.

As he sat back in his chair, Kuroo felt a sense of completeness settle over him. Life, with all its unpredictability, had given him more than he ever thought possible. And in that photograph, in the simple joy of a sun-dappled afternoon spent with the two people he loved most, he could see a future that stretched endlessly before them, full of laughter, love, and the quiet, steady moments that made life worth every breath.