stillunsurfacing
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Each careful, quiet word a green root through the soft earth of Osamu’s heart. Each smile a tight springtime bud exploding into bloom. No one’s ever given Osamu flowers before.
Miya Osamu, in pursuit: of the perfect cut of A5 Kobe-gyu. Of Akaashi Keiji. Of happiness.
Bookmarked by stillunsurfacing
14 Oct 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
Sakuradai, shimmering scales pink as new love. Fukinoto, clean, green springtime. A burst of color on the clean white center of a plate. I just came up with this. It’s 2 AM. I’m thinking about Akaashi Keiji. Everything’s singing, singing.
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Through him, Keiji realizes once they’re close, the dark looming shapes of the cliffs pressing closer as the road narrows between them. Miya hadn’t been staring at him at the train station; he was staring through him. Like he’d been trying to imagine the landscape back into place without Keiji interrupting it. Like Keiji wasn’t there at all.
On coming and going, and going.
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“You misunderstand me, Miya-san. We’re not here to discuss the legality of your… melons."
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Osamu's home garden gets the attention of the municipality's building and lot code compliance office.
Bookmarked by stillunsurfacing
16 Jul 2024
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For Atsumu, sadness always starts in the wrist.
Or, the pitfalls of mistaking your teammate for terra incognita.
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- English
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Bookmarked by stillunsurfacing
17 Jan 2026
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Atsumu de-seeds everything from watermelons to tomatoes for Kiyoomi — carefully, painstakingly, with the very tip of a teaspoon, or, whenever that won’t quite do the trick, with a toothpick — and the fact that Kiyoomi doesn’t actually need him to is his best-kept secret to date.
Or, Sakusa Kiyoomi vs. a public trash can, one memory at a time.