"Alright, assignments for today," Tired from working an all nighter the previous evening, Police Chief Nishida stared down at his clipboard for a few moments longer while his eyes tried to focus on the printed names, "Shoji and Honda, keep going on the case you have now, I expect an update by the end of the day." Nishida's voice was scratchy, matching the five o'clock shadow on his face, "Sato and Ito, take the new case." He threw a file at his two closest detectives, "Double homicide, no current suspects." Finally, Nishida turned to his intern, "Sawamura," Daichi sat up a bit straighter, trying not to look too excited, "Get me an espresso from that shop down the road. And maybe one of those cheesy pastry things too."

"Oh, that's sounds good. Make that two." Ito chimed in, his good natured smile hidden behind an impressively full beard.

"I'll take a black coffee, and a couple of those fruity turnover things."

"Can you ask about an Americano? I've been craving one lately."

Drink orders in place, the rest of the detectives filed out of the room with their assignments, already discussing with their partners the best course of action. Daichi, meanwhile, remained seated, glaring at his tightly clenched fists and trying to keep from spontaneously combusting. Despite the fact the University had required it, this work study program wasn't giving him the "on the job" training it had promised. And he knew why. The first day Daichi had shown up to the station in the most professional looking clothes he owned: a simple black button down and black wash jeans. But it didn't matter; one look at the industrial bar on one ear and the line of piercings that adorned the other, and Daichi had been blacklisted as 'trouble.' It didn't matter how excellent his grades were, or that his professor had recommended him to the Police Chief personally, every single cop in the precinct took one look at Daichi and labeled him unfit to make it as a real detective. Subsequently, rather than learn the important skills needed for his future, Daichi spent his time taking coffee orders and delivering mail.

Determined to prove them wrong, Daichi spent the first week trying everything possible to change their minds and show he was more than capable. He stayed late to help with report write-ups, offered to assist in the more menial tasks of investigations, anything that would get him away from the paper-pushing overly glorified secretary they treated him as. But his efforts made little difference; the Chief thought he was a lost cause, and no one wanted to go against the Chief.

Eventually, equally defeated and outraged, Daichi gave in and played the part he knew they wanted. Two days a week, he would remove all his piercings, comb back his hair, and shrug on the itchy and overpriced suit he'd bought specifically for the job. It was almost the exact same one he'd seen Sato wearing, which is how he knew it would work. But every time he stood in front of the bathroom mirror to inspect that he hadn't missed an earring or the new eyebrow piercing he'd gotten in retaliation, Daichi would let out a heavy sigh and glare at his reflection. He looked like such a nerd; all that he needed was a pair of fake glasses and he'd be the perfect Japanese equivalent of Clark Kent. It felt wrong. Like wearing a boring and uncomfortable mask. But it seemed to do the trick. The first day as "Detective Intern Sawamura" and Chief Nishida had assigned him to help Ito and Sato with their latest case. Daichi had even been the one to uncover vital evidence to help solve it, earning recognition from the Chief himself.

Playing the game now, Daichi decided to take it a step further. The following week he left his beloved motorcycle behind and took the metro to the station like the rest of the detectives, and he was assigned to two more cases. The detectives started actually chatting with him more, inviting him to lunch outings and offering advice for difficult classes they remembered taking. He was finally starting to fit in, and all it took was a complete change in who he was. And as much as Daichi had hoped for this type of experience from his very first internship in his dream job, it left a foul taste in his mouth. The smiles and lighthearted banter of the detectives may have appeared genuine, but Daichi knew the truth that lingered just below the surface of those grins. The judgement and contempt never really went away, but just lay dormant until the little act Daichi put on fell apart and they could go back to showing their true colors. It was all Daichi could do not to scream every time one of them gave him that obviously fake smile.

"Hey buddy, there are other people in line you know?" An angry voice over his shoulder made Daichi grind his teeth. He was waiting in the extra long line at the coffee shop just like any other customer, but apparently it was his fault everything was taking so long. Still technically on the clock, the only thing Daichi could do was offer a sarcastic smile and less than calmly move to the side to wait for his orders. And maybe flip the bird when the jackass wasn't looking.

Snatching the bag of pastries and the tray of coffees as soon as they were ready, Daichi shoved his way out of the crowded coffee shop as fast as possible. As he walked down the street back towards the station, he readjusted the collar on his shirt, unbuttoning it to allow more comfort. He hated wearing the suit. It was stiff and the collared shirt it came with buttoned so high it felt more like a vice choking him than an actual shirt. But the Chief liked his employees to look sharp. Said it made a good impression on the public. Not that Daichi would have normally cared what the Chief thought, or the public for that matter, but his entire future career did lay in the balance of the man's opinion. Hence the jumping through hoops.

For the most part, Daichi tried to keep the complaints about the less than ideal situation to a minimum, and only to Suga or Asahi, but it was becoming increasingly more difficult now that he had been reduced to an errand boy yet again. The sudden reversal had come as quite a shock; he had gotten used to actually learning something about being a detective. And Daichi had thought he'd been playing his part well lately, enough to convince the Chief to reconsider his opinions about him. Obviously he had been wrong, because the last two weeks in a row he'd been stuck back at the desk sorting old files or making lunch runs for the staff. Suga and Asahi had tried to cheer their friend up, commenting logically that there were only a few more months of the internship, and then he'd be able to use it as a useful reference for the future. But it was days like this that made Daichi seriously consider quitting. It had always been his dream to work as a high class detective, solving mysteries and keeping people safe; his mom had even bought him a cheap plastic police uniform when he was five. But if he had known this was what was really awaiting him, he might have just saved the trouble and tried to make it as a professional volleyball player.

As his own act of pettiness, Daichi took the long way back to the police station, cutting through a few back alleys to smoke a cigarette in peace, then backtracking and looking in to the Hobbit Hole for a quick moment. On a Saturday afternoon the shop was busy, crowded with chattering college students and families alike as they browsed the shelves and complained noisily about the lack of space. Tadaari was busy helping a family of four navigate to the picture books while a brunette employee sat behind the counter, popping her gum loudly and doing little to assist. An expert at maneuvering through the store, Daichi slipped away from the boisterous crowd and followed the shelves back to the very corner of the store, where the noise couldn't quite reach.

Windowless and with only a few solitary lamps to shed light on the stacks, the back of the store felt like an entirely different realm than the shop up front. The air was colder, the books dustier, and the silence seemed to hang in the air like a perpetual cloud of comfort. Only the dedicated customers ventured this far into the bookshop, where the piles of literature often stood as tall as the bookcases. But sometimes it honestly felt like Daichi's own private world, one that only he could find or was brave enough to explore. Well, him and his new pen pal.

He wasn't exactly sure what to call them, whoever it was leaving the poems on the typewriter. It wasn't quite like a true pen pal, someone who introduced themselves and wrote with the sole purpose of getting to know the other, but it was definitely more than just a coincidence now. For about a month, Daichi had been reading their typed out musings, responding with his own quip or literary reference. And unlike that first time, they had kept writing. On a regular basis too. It didn't take long for Daichi to figure out their pattern: every other day starting on Wednesdays a new quote would appear and he'd be there waiting to respond to it. And in some ways, it really was like sharing a letter with a pen pal. Daichi could only assume at this point, but it felt like the poems and quotes weren't so much picked at random as they were chosen to mirror the thoughts or feelings of their writer. With this in mind, he often took extra time to find the right response, one that he thought felt fitting for his own opinions; their own private conversation through poetry.

After shimmying around a precarious pile of art books, Daichi approached the old desk, bouncing on his heels a bit too excitedly. But the sight of a blank page made his heart drop and he gave a disappointed sigh. They had missed a few days here and there before, but Daichi had really been looking forward to seeing what they wrote today, especially when the rest of the day had turned out to be one big disappointment.

"So much for that I guess." Speaking to no one in particular, Daichi felt his shoulders droop and the disillusionment resettle back in place. There was no rule that said he couldn't start out the quotes for that week, but it somehow felt wrong, like he was intruding on the privacy of the original typist, and it only felt polite to respond instead of initiate. He had been hoping to find some sort of message that would raise his mood, even just a fraction. Instead, Daichi stared at the empty page until his phone gave an annoying buzz, making his eye twitch when he saw it was the Chief asking what was taking so long. Scowling, Daichi sent a polite apology, but the bitterness he felt was stronger than the coffee his boss was demanding. Glancing between the bright screen of his phone and the blank yellowing page in the typewriter, he could feel the resentment rising until it was too much, and he was suddenly moving without thinking. Ignoring the Chief's incoming text, Daichi dropped the pastry bag onto the table next to the coffees that were slowly going cold, and started typing the first thing that came to mind.

What and how much had I lost by trying to do only what was expected of me instead of what I myself had wished to do?

~Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

***

"Jun, heads up, they're looking this way." Taisei Sasaki gave his baby sister a slight nudge, watching with just a hint of mirth as her head snapped up from where it had fallen on his shoulder. Just in time too. Their father was finishing his speech, ending with the traditional word of thanks for his family. As his hand swept out over the crowd to the table where the entire Sasaki family sat, every eye followed until Jun felt their combined pressure watching them. Watching her. A little more adept at managing a crowd, Taisei smiled amicably along with his mother and their youngest sister, while Jun managed to disguise her yawn as polite shyness. She never liked these political dinners, nor did she really enjoy the amount of attention they always seemed to bestow upon the whole family. But now that her father had been named President of the House of Councillors, it seemed like there was a fancy dinner or function every month and she was forced to deal with them anyway.

"Late night again?" Taisei whispered out of the corner of his mouth, risking discussion now that everyone's attention had turned back to the podium and the second speaker. The thirty-one year old was no stranger to seeing his sister so sleepy, he knew she often stayed up too late reading, but she normally hid it better than this. "Reading for business or pleasure this time?"

Jun stifled another yawn, "I had to finish a research paper and lost track of time." She didn't finally get to bed until well past 4am, only to turn around and wake up at 7 in order to catch the train back to Tokyo. Normally it wouldn't have been much of an issue, she would have just taken a nap at home. But as soon as she arrived, her mother had swooped in like a hawk hunting a mouse, and dragged her daughter to hair and nail appointments, dress shopping and makeup sessions. Jun didn't get a chance to relax for even a moment. She hid another yawn, "Do you think mom noticed?"

Jun and Taisei both turned their heads slightly to where their mother sat applauding her husband proudly. Short statured and rather demure looking, Hana Sasaki knew how to play the part of the perfect politician's wife. Yet while her soft smile appeared welcoming and her loquacious manners charmed everyone she met, there still always lay just a hint of severity in the angled features of her face that alluded to the analytical mind observing everything in sight. While not unkind, this austerity definitely made the woman seem very rigid, especially when it came to managing the behavior of her children. From a young age, all three Sasaki children were grilled on the appropriate behavior in high society, and were always expected to perform. On nights like this, where their father began a new phase of his political career, Hana had been adamant that everything was to be perfect. Jun knew this was the reason behind the extra long salon appointments and special dress orders that morning, so it came as quite a surprise when her small lapse in decorum seemed to have gone unnoticed. Their mother was entirely focused on her husband, only once observing her children during his speech to adjust the bow in Sakura's hair.

Taisei whistled lowly, "Must be your lucky day Jun-bug. I think you're off the hook." Indeed, their mother didn't seem disturbed in the least, as if she hadn't taken notice of her second eldest at all since sitting down in the grand hall. Jun felt a warm sense of relief seep through her limbs and her shoulders relaxed. If her mother hadn't noticed, it was almost a certainty that no one else had. Well, besides her brother, whom she had used as a pillow for the latter half of their father's speech.

Mirroring the goofy grin now spreading on her brother's face, Jun let out a small laugh, "Guess there's a first for everything, right?"

"Taisei, stop gossiping with your sister and come and meet your father's new colleagues." Jun's laugh must have alerted their mother to their presence once again, and her analytical eyes trained on her only son. Now that the formal speeches had concluded, many people were rising from their tables to mingle, the unacknowledged desire to better their own political standings through charismatic conversation blatantly obvious. The matriarch of the Sasaki family was no exception. Her husband had secured a top position, and rightly so in her mind, but that didn't mean the job was done. The family legacy had to be carried on, and all of Mrs. Sasaki's ambitions now lay in the gregarious hands of her eldest. She beckoned him again, flashing her best and most winning smile as she took Taisei by the arm and steered him towards the most important guests.

Knowing that remaining seated wasn't an option, Jun elected to wander around the crowd of people, keeping her distance but still returning polite conversation when it was initiated. Walking in a slow loop around the room, the only time Jun paused in her route was to wink back at her father from his place amongst a gaggle of diplomats. Toshiro had spotted his daughter immediately and had almost broken away from the crowd to greet her properly, but knew it would have to wait, and he settled for a silly grimace he knew would make her smile.

"Yes, Sakura is our youngest at twelve, and our little composer." Jun had finally made it back around to where her family stood, her mother having pulled the youngest Sasaki into her braggadocios conversation. Sakura remained quiet and sweet next to her mother while the woman flouted her accomplishments. "She is a genius on the piano. Toshiro and I couldn't be prouder. You must visit sometime and listen to her play, it is enchanting." She gave Sakura a proud smile and a pat on the head, before quickly revolving back to Taisei. "But it is my son who will be the big star, I am sure of it. Destined to follow in his father's footsteps, aren't you, dear?"

Taisei bowed his head humbly, "I would be honored of course, Mother." Hana watched with undisguised pride as her son's respectful response earned a few nods of approval, her smile only faltering a millimeter when he continued, "But who knows, maybe Jun will be the real talent to shine." Taisei's eyes found Jun where she had been trying to hide behind the rather large figure of the Russian Ambassador, and her face instantly bloomed a deep red when the remainder of their group followed suit. Taisei watched his mother purse her lips quietly. He was used to her somewhat heavy-handed attention on him; he was the oldest, and the only son after all, so it was only natural that he would bear the burden of her expectations. And while for the most part, Taisei was glad to shoulder it knowing it would lift the pressure from his much more anxious sister, he sometimes felt perturbed by the seemingly lack of attention given to Jun in recent months. "She is working hard in college, and I've been told manages quite a bit of responsibility."

"Yes of course." Only Taisei picked up on the minuscule tone shift as his mother happily agreed, her eyes squinting shut as she smiled towards Jun. "Not many work as hard as my Jun does. Sometimes we hardly ever see her at all she's working so much. Now, if you'll excuse me I believe I see the Ambassador of Spain leaving and I need a quick word with him." As gracious as royalty, Hana Sasaki slipped away from the crowd, gently towing Sakura in her wake.

From her near hiding spot in the corner, Jun smiled blandly and excused herself as well. Wandering out onto one of the small balconies, she made herself comfortable leaning against the railing and looking out at the bustling street below. It wasn't an entirely new phenomenon that her mother appeared disappointed in her, nor was almost dismissing her entirely. Hana had tried for quite some time to coax Jun into following the pre-planned political dream Hana had prepared for her, but that ship had sailed at the end of her sophomore year, when Taisei had been promoted and all of Hana's time and attention shifted to him. Now, Jun didn't have to worry as much about her mother's pestering, but it would've been nice to have been acknowledged at least every now and again as more than just the middle child. As more than just the average child. The forgotten child.

Rather than return to the remainder of the festivities, Jun spent the last hour on the balcony, enjoying the chilly night breeze and finding comfort in the sparkling lights that lit up the city skyline. Eventually, after most of the guests had already gone, Jun rejoined her family inside and silently followed along to where their car sat waiting. Taisei tried once or twice to catch her attention, but Jun pretended not to notice. He would only make it seem worse than it was, and she wasn't in the mood to feel like the victim. Instead she smiled along with her parents as they recounted the successes of the evening, the perfect semblance of a dutiful daughter mirrored on her face, completely masking her slowly growing despondency.

***

"My god, why are you dragging us here? And why so early?"

"It's 10am Kuroo, not exactly the ass crack of dawn."

"Shut up, Suga."

Daichi was one of the first customers to arrive at the Hobbit Hole on Sunday morning. He had insisted on stopping by on their way to the gym where he and his roommates had scheduled to meet some old rivals for a few rounds of volleyball. The Junior had used the all too true excuse that Tadaari made the best cappuccinos in order to entice his suite mates to indulge in the detour. But as always with the Hobbit Hole, Daichi had other plans.

"So this is where you always run off to, huh?" Suga sipped thoughtfully at his black coffee, letting his eyes wander around the overwhelming number of books the tiny shop seemed to contain. "It's just as you described."

"Yeah, dusty." Kuroo chided, "How do you even find anything in here? It's so messy."

Daichi lead them down a random aisle, keeping his eyes locked to the shelves, waiting to see the familiar title amongst the dusty volumes. "You get used to it. And don't let Tadaari hear you say it's messy, he'll throw you out." Kuroo snorted, but didn't question it, and instead took a few long sips from his admittedly delicious cappuccino, and followed Daichi around the store for twenty minutes. Kuroo was just about to suggest they give up searching for a book he didn't believe actually existed when Suga's muffled voice called out to them from a few aisles ahead.

"Hey, look at this!"

Daichi could feel his heart skip several beats as he practically pushed his way through bookshelves towards his best friend. Did he really find it? He couldn't stop the racing thoughts and almost childlike excitement at the possibility that Suga had found the one copy of The Count of Monte Cristo that Tadaari still insisted was somewhere in the store. But when he finally rounded the bookcase and stood in front of Suga, his gray haired friend was not holding the book, a triumphant smile on his face, but instead was pointing to the typewriter. His typewriter. For once, Daichi was disappointed to see it. "Damnit Suga, I thought you found it." He grumbled, letting his lower lip jut out in an annoyed pout.

"God no, there's no way anyone will find it in this chaos." Suga's eyes were bright with curiosity, "But look how cool this is! My dad has one of these, I used to practice my typing all the time when I was a kid. He was convinced I'd be a journalist."

Curiosity winning out, Kuroo and Asahi both leaned forward to investigate the old machine while Suga pointed out how it worked. Hanging back, Daichi tried not to let on how much he knew about the typewriter or the fact that he could still see the lines he'd written only a few days ago printed out at the top of the page. Kuroo had spotted the quote too, commenting dryly about how he would have chosen a different one, which only made Daichi grind his teeth. Kuroo didn't get it; didn't understand the importance both of that particular passage and of the typewriter itself. And having his roommates fawn over the machine made him feel uncomfortable for some reason, as if they were butting in where they didn't belong.

Desperate to usher them away from the writing desk and his secret, Daichi cleared his throat loudly, "Come on guys, we're going to be late. Oikawa is probably already there."

"Hey, is this supposed to be the next line from the book?." Asahi's quiet observation made each of his roommates turn their attention back to the typewriter, Daichi's neck almost cracking with the speed at which he whipped his head around. Sure enough, nestled low on the page we're a few simple lines of text, very clearly meant for him.

Life is to be lived, not controlled; and humanity is won by continuing to play in face of certain defeat.
~Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

Forgetting he wasn't alone, Daichi's face split into the widest of grins as he read and re-read the short passage, knowing exactly who it was from. He was too busy thinking of his pen pal, silently thanking them for understanding exactly what he had intended with his first quote, that he didn't feel the curious eyes of his closest friend watching him. Suga had never seen Daichi's mood take such a complete turnaround so soon, and from something that wasn't volleyball influenced. Already planning how he'd confront him about it later, Suga hurried his roommates back along the way they had come, away from the typewriter before anyone else noticed Daichi's change of attitude.

"Daichi's right. If Oikawa and Iwaizumi get to the gym first, we'll never be able to pick fair teams."